A scribe's duty
by kaliaisvell
Summary: This was her one and only chance to prove herself as a scribe. With permission granted by Elrond, she had a seat at the council and vowed to record everything until her hand fell off. There was only one problem, her style was not like the others. Thankfully Erestor made sure to read it before it was archived and advised in making changes. Young Meriel has a long way to go.


Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, I just own my OC's

I would like to thank my beta reader Lydwina Marie, may everything be glorious and bountiful for you.

For those that have read my Easterling one-shot, originally I was not going to continue it because I already have other stories that take priority and was going to leave it alone. Now it has a place in my outline notebook along with possible plots and characters that need to be fleshed out. It will be a while before I post it due to graduation coming up in August, a busy summer, other stories and life in general.

So, please enjoy another short little story that occurred during a bout of madness at 3am when I should have been finishing an essay. Also...terrible summary, my apologies.

* * *

Good day, people of Arda!

I am Meriel, scribe extraordinaire. With permission granted by Lord Elrond himself, a seat at the council has been given to me so that I may write down a momentous event in history: the fate of the One Ring. Speaking of which, how can a ring be so troublesome? I mean, it is just some piece of jewellery that they are making a huge fuss about. Perhaps it is not as terrible as they make it sound, and this Sauron person needs an intervention to stop his hoarding of golden trinkets. Is he related to dragons? Is it even possible for dragons to be related to a fallen Maia? How would that work? Of course I jest, but just imagine how ridiculous it would be if that were true.

Enough rambling on my part, for that is not why I have been granted the chance to record the meeting of a lifetime. As a scribe, it is my duty to write down everything of importance and any who wish to have their stories remembered for all ages.

Also, because the meeting is about to start. Let us meet the Council.

A young hobbit named Frodo Baggins sits to my left, looking like a child in the Elvish seat. Frodo, who was brave enough to journey all the way from the Shire to Rivendell, racing against the Nine Riders and nearly lost his life. Even though he has rested, Frodo has the beginnings of a haunted look. Strange, really… is this the effect of Sauron's trinket or something else? Either way, hobbits are such adorable little creatures, from the curly hair atop their head to the large feet, all the way to their cute little chubbiness. There are five of them in Rivendell, including young Frodo, who is related to the famous Bilbo. Although the two named Merry and Pippin have that mischievous air about them… good thing the twin sons of Elrond are away, or nothing would be safe with those four teaming up. Getting my hair dyed purple was not on my list of things to do, nor did I want to wake up without eyebrows. Ah… here I am getting off track again, and I'm supposed to be writing down who is who.

To his left sits Gandalf the Grey. He is as grey as they come, in travel-worn robes to the very staff he holds. Eyes that twinkle with untold knowledge and mischief below bushy brows and a beard so long, he might as well enter a contest with the dwarves. That would be a sight to see, all races competing against the dwarves for best beard. Well, perhaps not all races. Only the Free Peoples and maybe not the Elves… Their hair is way too long – additionally, they do not have facial hair. Wonder if the women even have to shave? Wait… what does that have to do with Gandalf? Curses! Off track again!

My apologies good sirs and madams, but I must hurry through the introduction of all present as Master Glóin has begun talking about evil messengers who came to the Lonely Mountain promising the return of one or more of the Seven Rings if they would reveal the location of Bilbo Baggins. And it is imperative that I write everything down. My poor hand might as well be falling off after all of this. Also... again with the rings? What is up with evil and wanting rings?

Bilbo, the elder Hobbit and uncle to Frodo. Always full of stories to tell… just do not put him and Glóin in the same room; the banter is terrible when they retell the Quest to Erebor.

Legolas comes next. Blonde and flawless as always, with that stuck-up attitude he learned from his father, although he does pull that rod out of his arse when around Aragorn, Gandalf and other elves. Perhaps he only acts stuck up around me and the dwarves. Seriously… after all this time, one would think that they would finally get over it. Damned stubborn dwarves and long-lived pointy eared… ahem.

 _-ink blotch and random scribbling on a rushed summary of Glóin's tale concerning the evil messengers and seeking news of what happened to Balin, who went to Moria in 2989 with Ori and Óin –_

Apologies once again, I will be honest and say that this is my first true assignment. Most of them have been writing small stories of my travels and of any that I met along the way. But I have time to finish introducing everyone now. Lord Elrond has launched into the tale of the Ring and it is rather lengthy. In summary, The Ring was cut from Sauron's hand by Isildur during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Isildur lost the Ring in the river Anduin at the Gladden Fields, and promptly perished. This so-called Ring was created by Lord I-must-rule-everything-because-I-am-evil-and-like-trinkets just to become powerful enough to take over Arda and its people. Something about a Gollum and Bilbo finding the ring and Frodo ending up with it. Which led to this very moment.

Summaries are much better than lengthy tales.

The dwarves sit next to Legolas, short and stout, with very hairy, intricate braiding and designs woven into their hair and beards. Speaking of which, a word of advice, do not attempt to touch a dwarf's beard. Even asking permission is a terrible idea. It seems that it is something considered intimate, and only family or loved ones can touch such amazing locks of hair. I sobered up quickly after digesting this knowledge, and was lucky to keep my hand attached.

Glóin sits proud, hair white as snow, dressed in rather noble clothing. Next to him is his son, Gimli, who is drowning in his bushy red hair that seems to have no end and nearly buries his face underneath it. The end result: only his eyes and nose are showing. Which clearly matches his father's. With that much hair… do female dwarves have hair as glorious as the men?

 _-ink blotch and a line through most of the previous paragraph starting from 'In which' till the end, with a reminder to describe them better-_

Sometimes I forget how long-winded Elves can be when retelling tales… especially if they were present. Elrond is still going on about the history of the golden evil.

Now ladies, please contain yourselves with the following two fine male specimens. Well, only one male specimen, for the other is taken. But, Meriel, what about the other one? He might be taken too. Ah, well, until we know for sure… stare and fantasize away. I know I will.

Boromir hails from Gondor and is the son of Denethor II, ruling steward of Minas Tirith. He is tall with a fair and noble face, dark-haired and grey-eyed. Still cloaked and booted, as if ready for a journey right after the meeting. Ruggedly handsome and a voice ready to lull you to sleep with sweet nothings.

Another apology, but it seems that things have switched up along with the fact that Elrond caught me staring at Boromir and arched a single, epic brow. I will now give brief introductions of Aragorn, Heir of Isildur and Chieftain of the Dúnedain in the North. Lord Erestor, who always has his nose stuck in a book or is in council with Elrond when not sighing over my work. Glorfindel, the golden-haired beauty of Rivendell who shines like a second sun and makes one question themselves. Of course, Galdor of the Havens, messenger of Cirdan. Not much can be said of him at this time, because I do not know him. I must remember to speak with him after.

Saruman is a traitor and works for Sauron. Boromir wishes to use the Ring to defend Gondor, and apparently Gandalf and Brow-Master Elrond said no to that idea. Everyone got riled up and stood up to argue over what was best, screaming like children throwing tantrums and...

* * *

Meriel flinched when Erestor shut her leather-bound book with a sigh. Did he finish reading everything? Was he angry? Perhaps her note-taking was messy and not up to his standards. Well, there are the standards of Elves for you. After all, she was a mortal and they weren't perfect. Resilient and hard workers, reproducing like rabbits, but they did try. As a scribe, it was her duty to record all in her own way. Perhaps that was it... her way of recording the events was different compared to other scribes! Messy and all over the place. Licking her dry lips, Meriel decided to break the silence after the Elf lord leaned back into his seat, rubbing his temples, his dark brows furrowed.

"Was it… not to your liking?" She flinched when grey eyes met green. The untold wisdom behind them unnerved her even more, to the point that she avoided his gaze, opting to stare out the balcony that overlooked one of the many gardens in Rivendell. "I did say it was incomplete..."

There was a rustle of cloth and a gentle scraping against the floor as the chair was pushed back. It if were not for the birds outside and the gentle singing of other Elves, it would have been silent in Erestor's study, and the mere thought intimidated her.

"Refine it and be sure to include detailed accounts of everything that was said, even the history of the Ring," Erestor said finally. He gave her a menacing glare. "And leave out unnecessary comments."

She stood up in surprise, knocking the chair over and watching as the dark-haired Elf lord calmly approached the ornate door of his study. "What? But… that will take forever to write! My hand will fall off if I write everything in detail!"

"Such is the life of a scribe, young Meriel. Perhaps I will tell Boromir of what was written about him should you refuse, or shall we instead find out what Lord Elrond thinks of his new title?" were his last words before disappearing down the hall.

The young scribe stood dumbfounded at what had just happened. Had Erestor tried to… no. It couldn't be. Would he? No, he was not like the twin, nor the mischievous hobbits. Although some Elves did have an odd sense of humour… oh… oh! In seconds, she was out the door chasing after Elrond's advisor, assuring him that it would be done and finished within two days.


End file.
